by R S Penney
“That's true.”
“So,” Jack went on. “How much better would it be to begin our relationship with them by showing good faith? Miss Patel, if they're planning to wipe us out, there's very little that you or I can do to stop it, but if we can demonstrate that we're willing to work with them, we might just earn a powerful ally.”
“It seems I'm left with little recourse,” Patel muttered, staring down at the surface of her desk. She heaved out a deep breath. “I will bring your suggestions to the Minister of Defense. In the meantime, Jack, I'd like you to begin training-”
“No.”
Patel stiffened at the sound of Anna's voice, then fixed a steely gaze on her. “You have an objection?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “Do your people have some kind of moral aversion to combat readiness?”
Anna set her jaw and locked eyes with the other woman. She squinted, shaking her head. “He's my student,” she said firmly. “I will train him myself. He needs to know how to think like a Justice Keeper.”
“Will you at least make use of our facilities?”
Anna nodded. “That would be acceptable.”
“Splendid,” Patel said. “I'll make the arrangements.”
Chapter 21
Anna stood with her back turned, peering through the large rectangular window that looked out on a park. “I guess it's all right,” she said with a bob of her head. “But I'm still going to miss the old apartment.”
Jack forced a smile, staring down at the hardwood floor. He shut his eyes and shook his head. “You're determined to hate this place,” he muttered. “Seems very un-Leyrian of you, don't you think?”
She spun around with arms crossed, lifting her chin to glare at him. “You mean you like it here?” she asked, eyebrows rising. “Your old apartment was smaller, but you have to admit it had character.”
With a deep breath, Jack turned his face up to the ceiling. He squinted, thinking it over. “I don't know…” he mumbled. “You haven't lived there for over a year. I bet if we had stayed, the lack of privacy would drive us crazy.”
She stormed off with a grunt, passing him and making her way into the kitchen. If there was some rational cause for her dislike of this apartment, Jack couldn't find it. She had admitted the need for a change of residence – Pennfield could easily locate his old address – and the salary that CSIS had offered them was more than enough to cover the rent. Maybe it was just the fact that someone else had chosen this place for her.
Aamani Patel had arranged these accommodations – government clout had its perks – registering them as Mr. and Mrs. Peter and Linda Marx. She would have offered Anna her own apartment, but Anna wasn't willing to let him out of her sight.
He turned around.
Their little kitchen had a tiled floor and white cupboards with wooden handles. Not to mention state-of-the-art appliances. He had never cared much for material possessions, but in all honesty, it was nice to have a dishwasher.
He started forward.
A frown tightened Jack's mouth as he walked through the kitchen. “Oh, come on, Anna,” he called out. “You're usually the first person to look on the bright side. What makes today any different?”
On the other side, he found a hallway that led to the two bedrooms. His door was closest, left open to allow a small rectangle of daylight to fall upon the floor. Even from out here, he could hear Anna's muttering.
Jack bared his teeth, throwing his head back. He felt a vicious growl vibrate in his throat. “All right, that's enough,” he said, marching down the hallway. “Are you going to explain why you're acting like a child, or should I let you sulk?”
Through the gap in Anna's door, he saw her standing with her hands on her hips as she inspected a pink bedspread. Pink curtains hanging over the window matched it to the exact shade. “They gave me a pink room.”
“So?”
Anna whirled around to stare at him, her face a storm cloud that threatened to let loose with lightning. “I hate pink,” she barked. “I've always hated pink. They gave me a pink room because I'm a woman!”
Pressing a fist to his mouth, Jack closed his eyes. He cleared his throat with some force. “I can see why that would piss you off,” he began. “But don't you think you might be overreacting just a tad?”
She went beet red, then lowered her eyes to the floor. “You're absolutely right, Jack. I am overreacting.” She spun around and marched across the room to the window. “I just feel so powerless!”
“Oh, I see.”
Anna turned, glancing over her shoulder, her flush somehow deepening. “What do you see?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “A psychotic woman who you regret letting into your apartment?”
“No,” Jack replied. “I see a woman who's trying to assert control over every little bit of minutiae, because she can't control the very big problem that's staring her right in the face. You want to go home.”
The sudden slump of her shoulders told him that he had hit the nail square on the head. In truth, he should have expected as much. He had grown fond of Anna's company, but it was ludicrous to assume that she didn't have a life of her own, friends and family that she missed.
Here she was, living in an environment that she couldn't escape, and every aspect of that environment that displeased her only served to remind her of just how trapped she really felt. “I'm sorry.”
“It's not that I hate it here!” Anna protested. “There are good things, but I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my family.”
He stepped into the room.
Pacing across the hardwood floor, Anna frowned down at herself. She grunted and shook her head. “I know I shouldn't be acting like this,” she went on. “It's just that even with a distress beacon, there's a good chance they won't find me.”
She looked up at him with big blue eyes that glistened, blinking as if to force her tears away. “I may have to get used to the idea of living out the rest of my days here on this little planet.”
He could only imagine her frustration. How would he react if he learned that he had to spend his life away from the people he loved, away from Lauren and his parents? The worst part, in his estimation, was knowing they would never stop worrying about him.
Jack sat down on the bed with hands resting on his knees. He stared down into his lap. “There has to be something we can do,” he said at last. “Some way to make contact with your people.”
Spinning around, Anna sat down beside him. “There really isn't,” she mumbled. “The only guaranteed way to make contact is the SlipGate, and we both know how hard it would be to recover that. Like it or not, I'm stuck here.”
Jack slipped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. Instinct alone had made him do it, and he very nearly pulled away when his rational mind reasserted control over his body. Vulnerability was not an invitation for affection, but strangely Anna didn't seem to mind. “Would it be so bad?” he asked. “Being here?”
She leaned her cheek against his chest, closing her eyes. A soft contented murmur escaped her. “I suppose it wouldn't,” she whispered. “Not if I had my best friend to keep me company.”
Jack felt his lips curl, his cheeks turning pink. He closed his eyes and touched his nose to her forehead. “Best friend, huh?” he said. “Well, if you insist on having such low standards, I can't stop you.”
She gave him a playful little punch to the short ribs. “That's not nice,” she said in a tone that almost sounded like sulking. “I happen to have impeccable standards. I only like truly exceptional men.”
He stilled himself before instinct could kick in, realizing in a moment of terror that he had been planning to kiss her. That would have been incredibly inappropriate. He had to get a hold of himself.
Wanting to kiss her wasn't so bad – he could keep his hands to himself – but the real problem was that some part of him hoped they would be unable to contact Anna's people. Then he would never have to say good-bye.
That was a thought unbecoming of a Ju
stice Keeper. These feelings were getting in the way of doing what he knew was right, and that meant he had to squash them. “Anna,” he said. “I promise we'll find a way to get you home.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “When we do…”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
She closed her eyes, her face turning several shades of scarlet, and leaned her head against his chest again. “Well, we can worry about that later,” she added. “Thank you for being here for me.”
“Any time.”
When Jack was gone, Anna sat on her bed and shivered despite the warm afternoon. For a moment there, she had teetered on the brink of losing control. She could visualize it in her mind: touching his cheek and turning his face toward her, kissing him softly on the lips. Letting go.
She had almost given in to that temptation, and for a moment, it seemed as though Jack would have let her. Oh, she had no doubt that the attraction was mutual, but she was his mentor now.
Someone had to guide him down this very difficult path, and for the moment, she was the only Keeper available. That meant her personal desires had to be put aside. Hard as that was.
Anna bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut. She felt sweat prickle on her forehead and shivered. “Cold shower,” she said. “Long, uncomfortable, icy shower. Keep your head on your shoulders, Lenai.”
The blazing sun dipped toward the western horizon, painting the sky with bands of orange and red. Sunlight glinted off the metal mesh behind the baseball diamond, and the sand over the infield sparkled with bits of debris.
Missy stood at the plate with the bat over her shoulder, the bill of her helmet shielding her eyes from the sun. “You can do it!” Harry called out despite himself. When his child had decided to play softball, he had promised himself that he would not become one of those parents.
The pitcher threw.
Missy swung and clipped the ball right in the sweet spot, sending it flying all the way to the outfield. Kids in red uniforms scrambled with gloves upraised, each one with his mouth agape.
Missy ran for first base in a mad dash, feet kicking up sand. She threw herself down and slid on her belly, fingers outstretched to touch the bag. Only then did it hit her that the first baseman didn't have the ball.
I told her to look before she dives, Harry thought to himself. The coach is gonna tear strips off her hide.
His daughter got to her feet and took off, but the kid on second turned to intercept the ball with his glove. He squatted down, tagging Missy before she could get past him. “Out!” the umpire called.
Harry covered his face with his hand. He pinched the skin of his forehead with the tips of his fingers. “Next time,” he whispered, looking up. “It just takes practice. You'll get the hang of it.”
Missy couldn't hear him, of course, but there were times when he felt like simply speaking the words would convey them to her mind. An odd thought, he knew, but Harry had long since stopped trying to hide his own idiosyncrasies. Parenthood changed a man. For the better in most cases.
Missy approached the bleachers with a ball cap instead of her helmet, a bright smile on her face. “Sorry,” she said with a shrug. “I thought I saw…well, anyway. I'm glad you could come, Dad.”
Harry smiled, his cheeks burning. He closed his eyes and nodded once to her. “Of course I came,” he said. “And don't worry about it. Lots of people make those mistakes when they're still learning the game.”
She climbed up over the bleachers – there were very few people; most of the other parents had brought lawn chairs – and took a seat next to him. He could tell that she was upset. “You'd think I'd learn faster.”
“It's just a game, Missy,” Harry replied. “Doing your best is important, but don't get your sense of self-worth tied up in it.”
She nodded.
For a long while, they were silent. With the game over, both teams were gathered together while the coaches handed out popsicles. Harry suspected that his daughter was still too embarrassed to get one for herself. Fortunately, the freezer at home had several boxes full.
He had to give his daughter some credit; she maintained her composure quite well, given the circumstances. Not that he was an advocate of keeping feelings repressed, but it was good to know she could keep a cool head in a pinch.
“So, are you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
When he looked over his shoulder, he found her watching him with a concerned expression, her face glistening. “What really happened that day when you got hurt,” she went on. “What's been going on in the city?”
Harry stared into his lap, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. “If something were going on,” he began, “I'd tell you, Missy. Honestly, it was gang violence and nothing else.”
She crossed her arms and let out a grunt, frowning out at the field. “Gang violence. You expect me to believe that?”
His daughter was reaching that age where a child discovered that not everything her parents told her made sense. Missy would have heard the rumours just as much as anyone else. The advanced tech Anna had used had caused quite a stir.
Craning his neck, Harry frowned up at the sky. He narrowed his eyes. “There is no conspiracy, Missy,” he muttered. “I promise that if something were going on, I wouldn't keep you in the dark.”
“Who said anything about a conspiracy?” The sly little smile on her face made him want to slap himself upside the head. Amazing what a slip of the tongue could do. He had all but confirmed her suspicions.
“No one,” Harry said. “Because there isn't one.”
Missy got up and climbed down the bleachers, moving carefully over the wooden seats. “I'm gonna go talk to my friends,” she said when she reached the bottom. “Meet you here in ten minutes?”
“Sounds good.”
He sighed inwardly. When exactly had his daughter reached the point where she could best him in a verbal fencing match? Oh sure, he hadn't really given her anything concrete, but kids could speculate. And they got creative.
There were days when he wanted to grab Aamani Patel by the shoulders and shake her. It was almost a staple of pop culture that governments kept the truth from the people for their own good. He half wondered if that was part of what had motivated her decision to suppress knowledge of the Leyrians. Would people really panic if they learned about human beings flying around in spaceships?
His musings were interrupted by the high-pitched ringing of his phone. Checking the screen revealed that one of his officers was calling. So, this was almost certainly work-related then.
Harry brought the receiver to his ear.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, tilting his head back. “Mitchell,” he said. “Does this mean you have an update on the matter we discussed?”
“We have a lead on Hutchinson.”
“Go on.”
“Well, he was smart enough not to use his own credit cards, but we got a few hits on his ex-wife's card out in Halifax.”
“I'm not seeing the point.”
“His ex lives here, sir,” Mitchell went on, “and she hasn't been to Halifax once in her entire life. So, we can add credit card fraud to his list of charges. You want me to call the locals and have them pick him up?”
Clenching his teeth, Harry shielded his eyes with one hand. He blinked a couple times. “Negative,” he muttered. “I've got contacts out that way. I can get in touch with them myself.”
“Sir?”
Harry fixed his gaze upon the man and narrowed his eyes. “You heard me, Mitchell,” he barked. “Leave this one with me. I'll bring the bastard in myself.”
“Yes…sir…”
As luck would have it, Aamani Patel had assigned Jack and Anna a small workout room where they could begin his training away from prying eyes. A pair of ID cards were necessary just to get in the door. That was good, Jack supposed. Very few people at CSIS knew that Anna was the mysterious blonde woman who had been raiding corporate offices. Training in the main gym wi
th the other agents would surely draw attention when she used some of her fancier abilities.
Or when I use them, Jack noted. It was still odd to think that he had the ability to bend space and time with his thoughts. So far, he had made no attempt to do so. That felt like the kind of thing you didn't attempt without supervision.
Four walls of white plaster surrounded a box-like room where blue gym mats were spread across the tiled floor. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling cast a harsh glare. What he wouldn't give for a window.
He stood on a mat in black sweats and a matching tank top, sweat glistening on his face and matting hair to his forehead. “Alright,” he said, nodding to her. “Let's try this one more time.”
Anna was just as soaked, her skin glistening and her face flushed. Worse yet, the way that gray tank top clung to her body was distracting in ways that he would rather not think about. “If you insist,” she said. “Hit me.”
“Can't you begin it?”
Tilting her head to one side, Anna frowned at him, her eyes scrunched into a pug-like squint. “I've come at you each time,” she replied. “You must learn to initiate combat as well as defend.”
Jack tried to keep his face smooth as he locked eyes with her, but the uneasiness in his belly made that difficult. “I can initiate combat just fine,” he said, eyebrows rising. “I survived third grade after all.”
“Then show me.”
He knew what to do – a few years of Tae Kwon Do as a teen had given him a basic understanding of fighting stances – but the idea of striking someone nearly half his size made him feel like he was starring in an episode of COPS. Of course, he couldn't say as much to Anna.
She lifted her chin to stare at him, deep creases forming in her brow. “Well, are you going to begin?” she asked. “If you need a break, Jack, I'm not going to make fun of you. There's no sense in overtaxing yourself.”
“It's not that.”
“Then what?”
Jack felt his mouth tighten, staring down at the floor. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Anna, you're barely five feet tall,” he pleaded. “So, you'll forgive me if it takes a while to work up the nerve.”
